


Up to No Good

by realismandromance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Canon Compliant, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Marauders, Marauders Friendship, Marauders' Era, Wizard Rock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-17 11:44:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4665306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realismandromance/pseuds/realismandromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'We live for the highs; making trouble's what we do / Together 'til we die; I'd do anything for you …' A collection of twelve vignettes about the highs and lows of the lives of the Marauders, based on the wizard rock album <i>Up to No Good</i> by Split Seven Ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Together 'til the End

_We live for the highs; making trouble's what we do …_

* * *

At home, there was one. He was skinny and black-haired and wore glasses that threatened to slip down his nose whenever he flew on a broom. After they fell off during a particularly dangerous Quidditch stunt and he nearly crashed, he begged his father to reapply the automatic-adjustment charms.

'Maybe they've worn out,' he said, unconsciously running a hand through his hair.

His father grinned, but there was pride in his eyes as he exchanged a glance with his wife.

'Maybe if you hadn't been taking my wand every spare moment to practise on everything you could get your hands on, you wouldn't have muddled the spells,' he said, tone stern and eyes twinkling.

'I wouldn't be borrowing your wand if I had my own.'

His mother groaned. 'We've talked about this.  _Not until you're eleven._  Now, I know it's useless to tell you to drop the dangerous moves, but can't you at least wait until you go to Hogwarts? I'm sure –'

Her son gave her a look of deepest exasperation.

'Mum, I'm not  _allowed_  a broom there; at least, not in first year. Anyway, I'll be eleven in another month;  _surely_  that's close enough, right? Right?' He accompanied this plea with a cheerful, winning smile that would have won the heart of anyone, save those who knew him best. Neither of his parents were fooled, though he received his wand on his eleventh birthday, via an indulgent all-day trip to Diagon Alley, which naturally included the joke shop and ice cream parlour.

'Mahogany,' the aged wandmaker told him, as the wand in the boy's hand emitted sparks, and he waved it around excitedly. 'Eleven inches, pliable … yes, powerful, and excellent for Transfiguration.'

The new owner of the wand was barely listening. He did not, of course, yet realise how true the wandmaker's words would be.

* * *

On the train, there were two. The boy with glasses met the one who would fast become his best friend: a handsome, cocky boy with a restless, rebellious streak.

_'Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?'_

_'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart! Like my dad.'_

At Hogwarts, he met two more boys, with whom he would later become inseparable – a misfit and a hanger-on, both pleased to be included in the little gang. From pranks in the Great Hall to adventures in the Forbidden Forest to midnight feasts in the dormitory, the four Gryffindors –  _Marauders_ , they dubbed themselves – did everything in the spirit of friendship and fun.

'I'd do anything for you,' he told his three friends, over and over. It made his best friend declare the same and the brown-haired boy surprised and grateful and the small boy immeasurably nervous, because how could he be expected to return it in kind?

'We'll be together 'til the end, I swear.'

When the war came, he died as he had lived – in a blaze of glory; a foolish, daring, recklessly  _brave_  move, murdered by the wand of the one who wanted to kill his son. Wandlessness never meant much to one who always, even 'til the end, fought with his heart to protect those he loved.

* * *

_Together 'til we die; I'd do anything for you_


	2. Up to No Good

_I know it's not right, but nobody's perfect_

* * *

Alone in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, he rehearsed the answers to their endless questions. It was too easy to slip, to give an answer that would not hold up under further scrutiny. But he couldn't afford to lose these friends, not after he'd been through so much, worked so hard to make his parents proud and ensure the kind headmaster didn't regret his decision …

_Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself._

_Yes, it really is my mother I go to see every month; why do you ask?_

It was easier, after all, to hide instead of coming clean about who he was, though he was sure they already suspected.

_Dear Mum, I've got these three friends at Hogwarts, and I think they're about to find out …_

The right thing, the usual thing, would be to ditch them, to distance himself so he could keep his identity secret for as long as he possibly could. Making friends had been a mistake, but such a temptation – the promise of lasting companionship – could not be resisted for long.

He didn't know what to do.

* * *

He knew that he wasn't brave like them. He never realised that being a werewolf, making the dangerous transformation every month and continuing to survive in the face of bigotry and narrow-mindedness, took a different kind of bravery.

And so, when they teased and bullied other students, he let it slide. Too afraid of losing his friends to stand up to them, he put his head down and refused to interfere, hoping they would grow out of it soon. He may not have betrayed them in the end, but he was sure that his crime was just as heinous. Surely, if he'd tried, he could have stopped the daredevil behaviour before it was too late.

* * *

_In the end, I am nervous and I'm only a kid_


	3. Where You Belong

_The moon's a harsh mistress with a cruel, cruel song …_

* * *

'I already told you, you don't have to do this.'

'Nonsense,' said the boy with glasses, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'It's not about  _having_  to do it at all.'

'If it makes you feel better,' interjected the second black-haired boy, the carelessly handsome one, 'we're not doing it for your sake. We just  _really_  want to become Animagi – you know, for fun.'

'Sod off,' muttered the first boy, the werewolf. He seemed to shrink in on himself even more than usual. 'I'm being serious here.'

'Yeah, mate, which is why we aren't,' the Gryffindor-in-a-family-of-Slytherins retorted. 'I mean, we are – about  _this_ , just … just …'

'Not usually,' said the fourth and last, a round, small boy.

'But you do want to become Animagi.' This wasn't a question.

And all three boys nodded emphatically.

* * *

'No  _way_.'

The shaggy black dog wagged his tail delightedly, then transformed into a handsome boy with an impish grin. 'How do you like them?'

'You look like the Grim,' said the brown-haired boy faintly.

'Yeah, it's a great party trick,' said the third, bespectacled boy, who had been a large stag until a few moments ago. 'Sneaking up uninvited … scaring people half to death …'

The brown-haired boy blanched.

'OK, scratch that,' said the boy with glasses hurriedly. 'Look, we've even sorted out the dorky nicknames. Prongs – 'cause of the antlers, you know – and  _he_ 's Padfoot and  _he_ 's Wormtail.'

'And you can be Moony,' piped up the newly-dubbed Wormtail.

Moony couldn't get any words past the lump in his throat to express his gratitude, but that was all right, because they understood.

* * *

'It was different this time,' Moony said, lying in bed in the hospital wing.

'How so?' asked Wormtail.

'Because  _we_  were with him, you dolt,' said Padfoot, casting Wormtail a disparaging, yet affectionate, glance.

'But  _how_?' persisted Wormtail.

Moony shrugged. 'I don't know – I mean, I can never remember what it's like, but I just have the impression that I was … saner, like being a wolf didn't take so out so much. I – I can't thank you enough – you went to all that effort just to hang 'round  _me_  once a month …'

'Oh, shut up,' said Prongs bracingly. He slung an arm around the two boys beside him, grinning widely at the boy in the bed. 'We're  _friends_ , Moony. That's what friends do.'

* * *

_Come back to where you belong_


	4. Hand on My Heart

_Hand on my heart, you're the best thing about me_

* * *

'You don't hate me anymore,' he said wonderingly, on their third Head Boy and Girl patrol of the year.

'I never hated you,' she corrected.

He raised an eyebrow. 'What do you call years of dirty looks and calling me an arrogant toerag, then?'

'Indifference,' she said loftily. 'You weren't worth hating. You bullied and showed off – you still show off, really – but you were still smart and loyal and brave and refused to call me a Mudblood and saved my friend's life. I couldn't make up my mind about you, so I simply ignored you as much as I could. You weren't worth my time.'

'But what about now?' he persisted.

'I hardly have a choice about Head Girl patrols, do I?' She began walking again.

'That's not what I mean.'

'All right,' she said. 'I have decided that ignoring you is not the most practical solution at this time. Happy?'

He tried to hide his disappointment. 'I guess I'll have to be.'

* * *

'We've kind of fallen into a habit, haven't we, Prongs – may I call you Prongs? Or is that name reserved for you and your gang? What's in a name, anyway?'

'Letters.'

She groaned. 'I  _knew_  you would say that!'

He only grinned. 'Prongs is just fine.'

'Someday you'll have to tell me the story behind your ridiculous nicknames,' she said. 'Anyway, this  _is_  becoming a habit – sitting up in the common room together after patrols. It's clearly not about revising together – you don't even have your bag with you!'

'I think I know what's up,' he said.

'What, then?'

'You actually want to spend time with me, now that we've exchanged words without it turning into a duel.'

'Why would I want to spend time with  _you_?'

'Because I'm witty and slightly less of an arrogant toerag as before?' he tried.

'Watch it,' she said, but couldn't keep the smile off her face.

* * *

'So … will you be my girlfriend?'

She turned red enough to match her hair. 'This better not be a joke, or so help me …'

'It's not! I'm being serious!'

'Since when are you serious? You've asked me out at least a dozen times before, so what makes this one different?'

'Since … since we began patrolling together,' he floundered. 'And for the record, I've always found you pretty.'

She stared. 'That's not what I – oh!'

He looked taken aback at the words that had just come out of his mouth; however, he made no move to deny them. Neither of them spoke to the other for the rest of that night's patrols, but she couldn't forget what she'd heard.

By the next evening, they were talking again. By the end of the week, they were going for impromptu walks together on the grounds, and not even his friends could drag him away.

By the end of the month, they were dating.

* * *

'How long has it been? I've lost count.'

She stifled a smile. 'Two months next Saturday.'

'Really? Time must fly when you're with me.'

'When we're snogging, you mean?'

He held up his hands. 'Hey, you said it, not me.'

'You don't even deny it?'

'Of course not.' He pushed his round glasses up his nose ( _so dorky_ , she'd always thought) and looked affronted. 'I don't do things by halves. I don't want to be sneaky about who I am and what I'm doing.'

'What about guilty pleasures?' she countered.

'They don't exist. I don't have guilty pleasures. I like things because I like them, and that's all.'

'Including me?'

'You're not a "thing".'

'Good answer. And the only right one, too.' The common-room fire was dying; she jabbed at it with her wand and it flared back to life; kicking her shoes off, she pulled her legs up onto the squashy sofa and snuggled closer to him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her auburn hair.

'Tell me the truth,' she said. 'How long have you liked me for?'

'That's an easy one. Always.'

'Always?' The word sent a stab into her gut.

He nodded. 'Ever since you snubbed me on the train at the start of first year.'

'You were rude to my friend.'  _But not my friend anymore._

He raised his eyebrows. 'He was rude to you.'

She turned away, blinking hard. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Sorry.'

* * *

'You've made me a different person, I swear,' he told her earnestly. Hand on my heart and all.'

'Whatever happened to "cross my heart and hope to die"?'

He looked confused. 'Is that a Muggle thing? 'Cause I'd rather not hope to die.'

She had to stifle her giggle. For a top student and Head Boy, he could be pretty dense. 'It means that you'd rather die than break your word.'

'Oh. I might as well say that, too,' he answered, after a moment. 'Because I'd rather die than betray my friends, and I know they would say the same. It's the Marauder code. We swear to be up to no good, but there's so much more to it than that.'

'What if it were a choice between what is right and what is easy, like the Headmaster says?' she asked, thinking of her former friend – now a Death Eater, she was sure.

'Then … then I just hope that I would be brave enough to make the right decision – if it comes to that,' he told her.

She smiled. 'And I just hope that I would be strong enough to make it with you.'

* * *

_Our life together's just begun_


End file.
